Beatings of the Heart
by CrazyGabs
Summary: Another edition to my set of stories about the Messer family. You can read this one stand alone but there are others. In this one, the Messer's realise that family outtings can become dangerous in a split second. Read and Review! Ta xxx
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI NY nor any of its characters.**

**This is another edition to my set of stories to do with the Messer Family that I made up. Once again, it can be read as a stand alone. But there are others. Ie, Second Chances, and I will always protect you.**

**Anyway, on to the story. Hope you like it.**

**Let me know.**

Walking through the busy shopping centre with your hand entwined with your wifes, your other hand grasping the reigns of your five year old daughter, you listen to the chattering of your son, Thomas, who is walking infront of you. He's talking excitedly about the new game station he's going to get off Santa, because his friend Billy got one for his birthday.

And that's why you're out.

You and Lindsay decided that in order to suss out what Santa needed to bring this year, you should take your children to the shopping centre so that, sneakily, they could tell you. And then you, of course, would pass the information on to Santa himself. You feel Lindsay tug to the left slightly and you notice that there is a sale on in a shop. Finding her eyes you shake your head and she glares at you, wrinkling her mouth into a silly grimace. Chuckling, you pull her into you and remove your hand from hers in order to place it around her waist, holding her close to you. Lifting your head up, you call to your son.

"Tom, buddy, you know your birthday's not long after Christmas, you started thinking about a party yet? You know it's a big one now, double figures."

You raise your eyebrows to him and he rolls his and you feel your wife snigger next to you. You know she can see him transforming before your eyes, just as well as you can. He is well into boyhood now, and will soon leave this phase and become a teenager. Leaving you and your days of spending quality, peaceful, fun times with your children in the dusty past. Turning down to look at your daughter you smile as you see her curly brown locks bouncing underneath her red ribbon, smudged with dirt. Feeling your gaze upon her, she turns and gazes up at you, her beautiful pacific blue eyes, piercing yours. And then she smiles, a toothy, cheeky grin which makes you ruffle her hair a little.

"Oh wow! Mom! Come look at this!" Tom's shout echo's throughout the shopping centre and you loosen your grip on your soulmate so that she can run off to stare in a shop window with your eldest. You watch her, feigning excitement at the toy that Tom is pointing at eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. She's bending, crouching so that she is smaller than him and he turns and looks down at her. You see his mouth move, faster than ever before, and you know he is telling her of some friend from school who most probably has this toy, or the old version, and how he got it, what it does, and what it doesnt do.

But then your attention is pulled away by the small figure tugging on the reign that holds the two of you together. Letting her now lead you, you follow your daughter as she too takes you backwards to a window you passed a few moments ago. Staring up at you she points at the pastel pink ballet shoes in the window. And you copy Lindsay, bending to your daughters level you stare at the shoes as if they are precious gold, and listen to Evelyn ramble.

"Daddy, these are proper ballet shoes. Like the ones the big girls at class wear, not like my silly black pumps Mommy makes me wear." And then she turns to look at you, turning that sweet, cherub like face to yours. Tilting her head to the side she whispers. "If I'm going to be a real dancer, I need these shoes Daddy. May I have them?"

You want to laugh. You want to roll around on the floor with laughter because you can see, how, in ten years she will be able to wrap you around her finger, just as she was doing now. This sickly, sweet charm that your daughter posessed, you were frequently told she had inherited from you. But you disagreed. This charm that would make you go to the ends of the earth was only paralleld in another, and that was your wife. Lindsay.

Obviously your son meant the world to you, and you would go the ends of the earth for him without a blink of an eyelash. But you could say no to him. You could tell him off. But with this girl holding a lock on your heart you knew you would forever be her slave.

Ever since the moment she was placed in your sweating arms, you had known you were a gonner. Like never before. Her dark hair rumpled on her perfectly shaped head, her rosebud mouth, already pouting. Her fingers already stretching out for you and for anything she could grasp onto. And then she opened her eyes and you felt a tear slip from your eyes, carefully wiping it away you had watched your daughter blink, becoming acustomed to the bright light as her blue eyes constricted.

That was five years ago now, and you can still feel that overwhelming sense of loss that you had felt on that day. Yes, you had felt overwhelmed at your sons birth. You had felt a great sense of achievement, a miraculous love filled your every being. And you had sobbed, like a baby when he was given to you. But with Evelyn you knew she was your little girl. And though you had never believed people before. People who said that the bond between a father and daughter was heavenly special. Unbreakable by nothing. When she was given to you, you knew they hadn't been lying.

Turning to your daughter now, you open your mouth and begin to nod as you speak. "Evie..."

But then you hear five bullets ring out from behind you.

You hear the screams of hundreds of people.

You feel the warm trickle of blood flow down your arm.

And finally, you hear a small, terrified whisper. "Daddy?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI NY nor its characters. I own mine though.**

**After this story was only meant to be a one shot Im surprised that its now becoming a small mulit chapter fic.**

**Hope you enjoy this next installment...let me know.**

Pulling Tom into your chest you whirl your head around to look behind you, searching for the point of all this trouble. Three more shots are fired and you flinch as you hear the distinguished screams of three people being hit with bullets. By now you son is clinging to your hand, shaking, trying to pull you to the door. But you can't leave yet. Standing tall you see the young man alone, in the centre of all the hubble. You take in the firearms in his hands, you notice the explosives strapped to his chest and you feel bile rise in your throat. You've studied enough to know that with that much explosive there won't be bodies to count, just parts.

And that's when you snap.

You need to get Tom to safety. Pushing him infront of yourself, you turn your back on the man with the wild eyes and begin to shove people out of the way. You feel your son shake with tears and fear but you know that you can't comfort him now, just get him out. In the distance you hear the whine of sirens and you imagine Flack, breaking the speed limit, shouting orders at other officers to block off the area. To evacuate. And you can imagine the fear on his face. He knows you're here today, you had promised to find out what he could get his godchildren for christmas also.

As a bullet whizzes past your ear, curling in your hair you tug Thomas into a shop doorway. Covering his eyes you watch as the man who recieved the bullet falls to the ground and blood seeps out of almost every orifice. Feeling a tear slip down your cheek you wipe it away furiously before bending down to your child. Speaking loudly over the screams and bullets you grasp his shoulders tightly.

"Thomas! Thomas listen to me now, this is important. I want you to close your eyes and trust me ok?" He nods and you shake him a little. "I mean it, don't open your eyes. Ok?"

He nods more, tears soaking his t shirt and he mutters. "I promise. I'll keep them closed." You go to pull him away but he pulls you back with a single word. "Evie. What about Evie Mom?"

Bending down again quickly, you stroke his hair. "Thomas, listen to me, Daddy and Evie are going to be fine. They are probably already out and safe with the police. But we need to get out and reach them ok?"

And this time you grab his hands and pull him back into the throng of people, sprinting to the exit. As you see the open road you hope you're right, that Danny and your little girl are safe with Mac and the others. You imagine Evie sitting in the back of Mac's car playing on the game station he kept for them, being watched over by some uniform. You imagine Danny standing with Flack, strapping the kevlar to his chest. Listening and talking at the same time, both he and Flack filling the other in on what they know.

But then you imagine Danny behind you, still in the shopping centre, trying to get your daughter to safety. And you imagine the son of a bitch with C4 wrapped around his torso releasing the trigger and you shudder as you hear an imaginary scream in your head as your husband and daughter are blown apart. Shaking your head you notice up ahead, a young child, a toddler clinging to the arms of an empty pushchair. Pulling your son to the left a little you are able to sweep down and pick the little boy up and keep running with your son in one hand and someone else's in the other.

As you hold the screaming child to your shoulder, you feel him cling onto your shirt and hear him screaming for his mother. And you wonder. How could someone forget their own child? Yes fear can take over and make people do stupid things, but not so stupid as to leave your own flesh and blood behind.

Right at this moment you don't care if you're shot, if you are blown to pieces, so long as Tom is safe and well. So long as it isn't him. Guiding your son through the fallen people and dead bodies you shout at him to keep his eyes closed. You tell him when to jump and you hoist him into the air slightly using only his arm. Glancing down at him you see he has one hand clenched in yours, small blue marks appearing under your fingers and his other is covering his eyes, just as he promised.

Finally you taste the fresh air in your nostrils and you push forward more, breaking free into the bright daylight. Immediatley you see all the flashing lights, the paramedics, the firefighters, and the police. Your guys. Searching through the crowd you see the dark haired man with the vest strapped ontop of his black shirt.

Running forward you hand the toddler in your arms to the paramedics and finally lift your own son into your arms, cradling him against your chest feeling him weeping into your neck. You carry on running, and now he notices you. You see Flack break away from the other officers and he runs forward.

Meeting at the bottom of the steps you fall into his arms and let him hold you as you get your breath back. His arms wrap around you, stroking your hair and muttering in your ear. Then he pulls back slightly and touches Tom, ensuring that his Godson is safe. That's when he takes your face in his hands.

"Lindsay! Are you hurt?" You shake your head no and you see him breathe out in relief. Staring around you realise that the man you really want holding you, hasn't found you yet. Pushing Flack back slightly you stare around, waiting and listening for his shout. After a moment you turn back to Flack.

"Where's Danny?"

He shakes his head and guides you back to safety. "Mac and Stella are waiting at the back of the convoy, Hawkes is there aswell. Mac's freaking out abit according to Stella, wants to get to the front of the action, but this isn't a crime scene yet. Just a scene." You hear the joke in his sentance but you meet his eyes and watch them cloud a little, his head falling slightly. "Danny hasn't made an appearance yet."

Stopping you refuse to let him guide you back to your team mates, and through your constricting throat you whisper. "What about Evelyn?" He shakes his head and you feel your knees weaken a little. "Oh God. Oh God Flack." He pushes you back and talks quietly to you.

"I'm sure they are fine, probably just moments behind you." As you hear Stella shout and you see her start to run toward you Flack nods and turns around, making his way back to the front line.

Shouting out to him, he stops at your voice. "Flack!"

He turns back to you, and you see a glisten on his cheek and you pray it isn't tears. But his voice is strong and sturdy. "I will Lindsay."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

**Here's the next installment. Hope you enjoy.**

**Let me know.**

You bring your fingers up and touch the warm sticky liquid flowing from the gaping hole in your shoulder. As your fingers push on the open flesh you curse loudly and out of the corner of your eye you see your little girl jump back in fear. Taking a look at her you see she's hoping from one foot to the other, tears running down her ashen white face as she shakes with fear.

Closing your eyes for a moment you want to pass out, you feel your eyes blurr and your head spin but then you hear a terrified squeak next to you and you feel a strength rise in you. Your daughter needs you and you know you have to protect her, at all costs you need to get her out of here and to safety.

Falling to your knees you pull your daughter down infront of you, protecting her from any further attacks. Staring at her she looks at you and you kiss her forehead whispering. "You're okay, we're gonna be ok Evie!"

She nods a little and shudders as more bullets ring out. Grabbing the reign that has been binding you together you rip it from both of your wrists and tie it tightly around your shoulder, a desperate attempt to cut off the flow of blood to your arm. Grabbing Evie you hoist her to your hip, your good arm holding her tightly.

Swinging her around you're able to hold her infront of you, her legs around your waist, her small hands clinging desperatley to your neck, her face buried into the crook of your neck. You want to switch her so shes not leaning on your wound, but theres no time. Theres no time to think, only act.

Clutching your daughter tightly you run forward, pushing people out of the way. You hear more bullets being fired and taking the chance to look around you see the man with the guns only a few feet from you, and you finally see the C4 surrounding him. His eyes meet yours and he smiles.

Raising his hand he aims the gun at your chest, at your daughter.

Jumping back you turn and run in the opposite direction. Making a rash decision you run into a shop. As expected it's empty, but the doors are open. Thanking the lord you continue to run, you run through the doors labeled 'Staff Only' and run through the stock rooms.

Pushing against a set of double doors you find them locked. Growling you see Evelyns head come up to watch. Looking around you put her down in the corner and begin to heave yourself against the door, trying to break it down. Trying to break free. Something snaps against your shoulder as you once more fling yourself against the solid doors and you see the reign that had been numbing your arm, snap off.

As it snaps to the floor it makes contact with your daughter's head, and you see the slow trickle of blood appear above her eyebrow. Bending you take her face in your hands and wipe the blood away, inspecting the gash. Once your satisfied that it's not too deep, that so long as you get her away from this madman she will be ok, you try once more to break the doors. After your third attempt you hear a satisfied crack and the doors fall limply open.

Picking Evie back up you hold her tightly and as you run down the dark corridor, heading for the emergency exits you hear her whimpering. "Daddy. Daddy, I'm scared."

You feel her hot tears trickle down your neck and mix with the blood that is flowing down your chest and arm, clutching her more fiercley you feel your own tears fall from your eyes. Swallowing you speak with control in your voice. With conviction. You know that as her father, as Evelyns Daddy it's your job to make this little girl feel safe. You need to make sure she knows, or at least thinks it's going to be ok.

That's your primary job.

"There's nothing to be scared of Evelyn, we're fine. We're almost outside now, the police will be there to help us. Uncle Flack along with Uncle Mac and Aunt Stella." And then you stop yourself just in time. You make sure you don't say that Lindsay will be there. That her mother will be there to take her in her arms and hold her tight. Because you don't want to lie to her. For all you know, Lindsay, along with your boy, your son, could be back in the main shopping centre. They could be watching as the madness descends on them. They could be almost at the door but fall to a bullet. Or they could be dead already. Clinging to one another as they pass through. Pushing the thoughts from your head you spurr forward more. Desperation pulsing through your veins.

"Santa Maria please be with us, look after us and help us be safe. Please!"

You hear your daughters muffled pleas against your neck, and you smile a little. You remember, only three months ago being at your parents house for Sunday Lunch. Your Ma had sat both of your children down and held up a glorified painting of Saint Maria. Stroking Evelyn's hair and clutching Thomas' cheek she had taught them, the way she had taught you.

You remember muttering to Lindsay informing her it was silly that you both let your Mother bring your children up as Catholics, when most of the things you had seen from the Catholic Church were anything but Godly. But Lindsay had hit you and listened intently as your Ma told both your children about Saint Maria. About the terrible sufferings she had endured, but how she had been strong enough to forgive those who had hurt her and through her death she had become a Saint. And she would watch over children, guide them in need, all you had to do was ask.

And here was your little girl, five years old and asking for guideness and protection from Saint Maria in her hour of need. You stumble slightly as your legs ache and throb, but you don't stop. Catching yourself before you fall you pull yourself back up and keep running. As you see the emergency exit you see the corridor swim before your eyes, your head is dancing with your brain and you can't make sense anymore.

All you know is that you need to get out of here.

Your daughter slips slightly but you grasp her tightly, unaware of the bruises you are causing. You hear the blood pulsing in your ears and that's all you can hear, along with a muffled sob from Evie and your feet pounding against the concrete.

Pushing hard against the metal bar, you break free into the bright daylight. Stepping onto the metal stairway you begin to climb down, letting your aching legs run automatically. You can see the ground below you, a blurry mess of beige and black, with the red dumpster just to the left. And now you can hear the sirens, the police talking through a microphone, the screams. You near the bottom, and through your heaving breaths you mutter hoarsley.

"Almost there Evie. We're almost there baby."

Suddenly, the metal staircase shakes and you hear a tremendous explosion. The horrific sound of concrete and bricks falling to the ground mixes with the fresh screams of hundreds of people. You tighten your grip on the metal bar guiding you down, and move faster. You're unsure if the explosion will travel, unsure if this staircase will fall along with the building you just exited. As you round a corner you look at the wall next to you and thankfully you don't see it crumbling, but it doesn't slow you down. Finally you push the ladder down with your foot and after what seems like an eternity you feel your feet touch hard ground once more.

But as you stumble forward with your shaking daughter in your arms you know you won't last long. You can feel the blood leaving your body faster than ever, you know its soaked your baby girl, along with your clothes. And you know you won't survive much longer. But you need to get her to safety. Swaying to one side then to the other you make your way around the corner. And lifting your head up you see the red and blue lights, and you see the emergency services surging forwards into the rubble which was, only minutes ago, a shopping centre.

Through the noise you hear screams and you can see people pointing as you fall to your knees. Setting Evelyn down on the ground, you look into her eyes and try and focus, you need to see her safe. She's crying, her brown hair matted with your blood, her sundress a sick red cloth covering her red skin. She reaches out and touches your face and you hear her crying.

"Daddy!! Daddy!" But then she's gone, her screams are louder, but you feel her being tugged away from you.

You hold her tighter, afraid to let go of her hand, but someone is wrenching you apart.

Burning your skin as they pull her away from your touch.

She's screaming.

Crying.

Howling.

You mumble quietly. "It's ok baby. You're ok."

And then you feel your head spin once more and as the ground comes closer to you, you finally give in and see only black.


End file.
